Hot Guy-Deprived
by TheQueenofBooks1000
Summary: Deciding to date more, Heather asks a hot guy out, and got someone else to spend the evening with instead. Oneshot (or not, who knows).


**Here's a Harold/Heather fic! I kind of like this pairing, but not as much as AleHeather. Read up, folks.**

**This is set in an AU where they are in high school.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN TOTAL DRAMA.**

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Heather stared at the full-length mirror in her room, studying her face with a critical eye. After a moment, she decided that lip gloss made her look like she just ate a greasy burrito, so she wiped it off and began applying some lipstick instead.

As odd as it may sound, Heather was a nervous wreck. Yes, she's always been known as the bitchy queen bee, the one that intimidates the crap out of people, but not tonight. Tonight, she felt like her insides were twisting together in a complicated knot.

The reason is that some really hot guy asked her out. Not that Heather has been pining for him or anything; it was basically a superficial reason. He was a hot dude, and she was a hot girl. Besides, she's been, well..._hot guy-deprived _for a while, so to speak. She hasn't had much dates due to the student council and the cheerleaders' team; her last one was nearly eight months ago, hence her nervousness.

And the guy was a major tool (perhaps to compensate for his gorgeous looks), and he was also kind of an egotistical jerk. But then again, Heather wasn't really a saint herself, so...

The loud, gong-like sound of the doorbell nearly made her drop her lipstick. Heather's nervous gaze landed on the clock. It was only six-thirty.

Surely that wasn't _him. _They agreed to meet at eight.

_It's probably just my brother's stupid friend or something, _Heather decided, and turned her gaze back to the mirror. Damn, her mascara looked clumpy...and her eye shadow looked like it was a applied with the use of a rusty trowel. Sighing, the raven-haired girl grabbed the half-empty bottle of makeup remover (only purchased this morning) and a bunch of cotton balls.

She has removed half of her makeup when the doorbell rang again. And again. And again.

"Ryan, get the door!" she shouted. Her brother didn't reply.

The doorbell rang again. No one seemed to be answering the demand of the person outside to be let in.

Cursing, Heather tossed the makeup-remover away and stormed out of her room. She hurried down the stairs (and checked her brother's room to make sure that he wasn't around, because if he was, she'd beat him up), clad only in her purple bathrobe, and threw the front door open.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"What the hell?" Heather snapped, tightening her robe around her mostly bare torso.

"Greetings, Heather." Harold Norbert Cheever Doris McGrady the fifth stood on her front porch. He wore his usual blue shirt, clashing with the hideous pants that he somehow needed to wear despite the enormous ketchup stain near the crotch area. It was hard to make that sort of look dorkier, but Harold managed it flawlessly by topping the look off with a red Superman cape and some weird aluminum foil hat on his head.

"Dweeb," Heather said, as a way of greeting him. "What the hell do you want?"

Harold took the ridiculous hat off. "Justin asked me to fill in," he said. He gestured at his hat."Would you mind terribly if I kept this on? It is due to the fact that the weather of the autumn season is unreasonably cold, and the pollen might trigger my asthma _again_. Curse the weather's inconsiderate actions to humankind! GOSH!"

Heather was too confused to tell him off. "Wait, what do you mean, _Justin _asked you to fill in?"

The redhead shrugged, adjusting his peculiar hat. "He said that he was going on a date with Courtney, so he told me to stay with you for a few hours until he's done."

"A few _hours?" _Heather's voice scaled up. "Are you kidding me? It's only six-thirty! We agreed to meet at eight!" Placing her hands on her hips, she scowled at Harold. "Look, loser, I don't know what your deal is, so could you please tell me before I kick your ass back to your weird home planet?"

Harold's brow furrowed. "GOSH! Is it that hard to understand such a simple explanation? No wonder your grades are always unbelievably bad. IDIOT!"

"Excuse me?" Heather's voice was dangerously low. "I _never _got anything lower than a B-minus this term!"

"Exactly!" Harold snapped. "How could you even show your face when your grades are that low? GOSH!"

Heather sneered. "The same way you can show your face when you wear that stupid cape! IDIOT!"

The unlikely pair were quiet for a moment. Finally, Harold spoke. "Did you just use my line?" he asked.

The queen bee rolled her eyes. "What do you mean, _your _line? Last time I checked, you did NOT invent the word 'idiot'! GOSH!"

Harold's chapped lips formed a smirk. "You're doing it again!" he cried. "And how are you certain that I did not invent the word 'idiot'? There are many possibilities, you know. For instance, I could have had a past life that so casually constructed the word by using various consonants and sounds to express irritation! Or there is also the Infinite Universes theory, which basically means that—"

Heather growled. "_Good-bye, _geek." She slammed the door on his face. Sighing irritably, she walked up the steps of her staircase...only to be interrupted by a knock on the front door. And another. And _another._

Heather swore, stomped down the steps, and yanked the door open.

"Hello, Heather." Harold looked at her helplessly. "As you can see, water from the atmospheric vapor is falling, leaving me without any means to go back to my house because I walked all the way over here."

Heather snorted, leaning against the door frame. "Do you mean 'rain'?"

Harold nodded, as if she were a toddler that finally got something right. "Yes, Heather. Excellent observation. So, can I come in?"

"No." Heather smirked. She ran a finger through her jet-black hair and looked at him condescendingly. "Why should I let you in? Enlighten me, Mr. Smarty-pants."

Harold sighed. "It's raining," he told her. "I can't go home in the rain! I'll probably acquire pneumonia! Or worse!"

Heather opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a flash of lightning accompanied by a clap of thunder. Then the rain began to pour continuously, and somewhere far away, they heard some person shriek.

Heather looked at Harold, who was currently dripping wet and shivering. She pursed her lips. "Fine," she relented, and grudgingly invited him in.

"Yes!" Harold cheered. Before Heather could change her mind, he quickly scrambled out of the rain and into her posh mansion and immediately began fiddling with her TV.

Heather groaned and slammed the door shut, wondering how she had managed to get herself in such a predicament. But there was one thing for sure, though.

She was _so _going to destroy Justin tomorrow morning. That jerky asshole, going out with _Courtney _of all people, and being stupid enough to get his schedules mixed up (presumably).

On the bright side, at least she wasn't _feeling_ hot-guy deprived anymore.

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**Aand...that's it. I wrote this a long time ago and stumbled upon it now. I lopped off half of the text because it kind of dragged, but I'm going to tell you that it involved a power outage. Anyway, I think this will just remain a oneshot. It's kind of hard to write for these dudes. Please review! :) **


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